


Sable On Blond

by Auggusst



Series: Heart and Mind [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Breeder/Alpha Carrier, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), Canonical Character Death, Denial of Feelings, First Meetings, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Helicarrier (Marvel), Longing, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pining, Sexual Tension, Slight Humor, Slight fluff, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Yearning, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23347600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: When Alpha Breeder Steve Rogers comes face to face with Alpha Carrier Tony Stark for the first time, it's in the middle of an intergalactic threat, which does nothing to settle the immediate, palpable tension and invisible magnet pulling them together. It takes a near death experience on Tony's part for him to agree to explore their connection, to let himself have what he so desperately wants.(Avengers 1 events.)
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Heart and Mind [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670740
Comments: 24
Kudos: 322





	Sable On Blond

**Author's Note:**

> I'm getting so lazy with titles sgslkdgnsdg thank you Stevie Nicks for giving me good music
> 
> This is WAY LONGER than I wanted it to be!!! Look at all of you, making me write long things!! You should be ashamed of yourselves. But now that this monster is out of the way, I can get to the fun parts.
> 
> Also side note: Most of the dialogue I didn't even rewatch the scenes for ksjbskdgjd I just know the movie too well

“Captain.”

“Mr. Stark.”

Tony had no idea what those simple words would start.

He knew Steve was an Alpha long before meeting him. He’d known that since childhood. It was just one of the many details he’d memorized over the famed Captain America over the years, over his idol. He’d fantasized about meeting Steve more times than he could count, and the nature of those fantasies varied over the years, but now it was actually happening.

He barely focused on fighting Loki. Intimidating him was a piece of cake, given that he’d caught the god off guard, and had plenty of backup. The brunet couldn’t help but fixate on Steve instead, and thanked his lucky stars for the suit, and the fact that it hid his face, which wore a mixture of disdain and excitement, his teeth bared just a fraction, like every time he met a new Alpha.

He wasn’t sure if Steve knew _he_ was an Alpha though, before meeting. Maybe it was in his briefing packet, maybe it wasn’t. Even if he did know, Tony didn’t think Steve knew _how_ _much Alpha_ Tony could be, because the tension in the air that night in Stuttgart was overwhelming, instantly, almost raised his hackles, despite the fact that he couldn’t scent Steve. The suit was designed to block out scents, and to keep his own in. It kept him (mostly) distraction free during battle, and allowed him the element of surprise somewhat. Maybe that fact set them both on edge more than anything, being able to sense another Alpha but being unable to scent them, to get a sense of who they were. There was plenty of emotional turmoil to accompany the ordeal, the result of a less than satisfactory childhood and years of self-hatred and plenty more issues, and all of that combined made Tony unsure if he wanted to get close to Steve tonight, to offer him a smile and a proper greeting, or if he wanted to tear the blond’s throat out.

Steve, for his part, felt the same confliction. The suit was gorgeous, and otherworldly and impressive, but set him on edge, made him wonder what kind of Alpha would block his scent, wouldn’t let his new teammates get a whiff of him. He’d read more than enough damning material in the SHIELD file he was so thoughtfully provided, and it made him press his lips in a tight line to prevent himself from letting out a growl the instant his attention was turned from Loki, from the most present threat, to Tony, a much less defined one. His tone was as respectful as he could manage, as they hauled the Asgardian onto the shield jet, and Tony’s seemed the same, but he couldn’t help feel like the stranger’s eyes were on him, behind his mask, and Steve didn’t like it one bit. His shoulders were squared and muscles tight, and he didn’t speak any more than necessary to prevent a growl from slipping out between words.

It didn’t help that their conversation was a little strained.

Tony debated never taking his helmet off at all. Maybe it was better to just keep his distance, to get all of this over with quickly and to return to his life. He had questions, lots of them, and an insatiable curiosity bubbling up in his chest, but he squashed it down. Only trouble could come from all of this, from trying to connect to one of the many sources of his father’s mania. It wasn’t like there wasn’t plenty else to focus on, like the tall, seemingly-content-despite-just-having-his-ass-beat troublemaker they’d just apprehended, and the fact that he was from another _planet_ , or the fact that Tony was somehow, again, in the same room as Black Widow, well after Hell Week two years prior, but Steve was at the forefront of his mind. He was filled with a burning curiosity but innate irritation, something that made his fingers flex beneath his gauntlets, and gave him the urge to pace the jet, to affirm it as his own territory. He suspected Steve was struggling with the same instinct, and envied the soldier’s ease at hiding it.

They had to be careful. One wrong word, one quip too far, and things could go south really fast. Tony knew that much. He had plenty of practice ignoring his hindbrain, relying on logic to make his decisions, but unfortunately, his heart won out most of the time, pushed past his self-imposed protocols and acted however it saw fit.

 _‘Just do it,’_ his brain whispered, although he tried to ignore it. _‘Don’t you wanna know?’_

He did want to know. _What_ specifically he wanted to know, he wasn’t sure. Did he want to know how he measured up to Steve as an Alpha? If he could get Steve to shrink back, to submit? Did he want to smell Steve’s scent, unfiltered and strong, unlike the barely-there hint he’d gotten from his father’s old memorabilia as a child, before Howard locked him out of his office? It smelled good, if he remembered correctly, and the thought that Steve could smell good now filled Tony with a kind of hatred he wasn’t familiar with.

What did he want? What _didn’t_ he want? For one of the few times in his life, Tony wasn’t sure what he wanted. He wasn’t sure what to do.

After a minute or two getting settled on the jet, trying and failing to lighten the tension with some nonsense questions(Pilates? Why did he even think of that?), Tony’s body made up his mind for him, and he heaved a sigh. Some part of him believed he was making a mistake, but he’d already made a billion, what was one more? 

Tony hesitated just a moment, and took off his helmet.

Steve’s scent was overwhelming. It washed over him like a tidal wave, dove deep into his lungs, drowned him. It was terrifying and exhilarating, and made his throat tighten, torn between growling and letting out a reluctant whine. The scent itself was pleasant, too pleasant, and Tony hated it. It was musky, vaguely floral, all natural and calm, but suffocating at the moment, magnetizing in a way Tony didn’t want it to be at all. He bit down on his tongue to keep from speaking for a moment, thanked the heavy weight of the suit for keeping him upright.

Steve wasn’t doing much better. He knew the instant Tony had moved to take his helmet off, had barely taken his eyes away from Iron Man since they got on the jet, unsure exactly of how to feel about him. Steve had heard about him, read about him long before today. In fact, he’d been told about Tony two years ago, not long after awakening, but he never found it in him to reach out. Maybe it was fear, or too many expectations, or delusions that kept Steve from taking action. He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of now was that there was something about Tony that grinded his gears, much more than he had been expecting, and it took a lot of effort to keep himself in check. He kept his fingers tight on the loops of his belt as they spoke, the exception being when he reached out for the hand rail above his head during takeoff. He still didn’t really like flying.

The warning bell in his head had gone off when he saw Tony’s hands go up to his helmet, and he braced himself, frown on his face. Why was Tony exposing himself suddenly? Why hadn’t he done it initially? Was he gearing up for a fight? Steve didn’t really like fighting, at least, he told himself he didn’t(the _insane_ number of back-alley rumbles he’d gotten into, even when he was a 100 pound Alpha instead of this walking slab of marble said otherwise) but he wouldn’t hesitate to step up to the plate, so to speak. His lips twitched when the metal of Tony’s helm snapped open with a _hiss_ , ready to bare his teeth, but he didn’t stand a chance when the brunet’s scent filled his nostrils.

He smelled good. _Way_ too good, sweet and strong, like vanilla, but with a hard bite of alcohol, aggressive and guarded, _dominant_ in a way the soldier wasn’t expecting. Maybe Steve was just used to being the biggest Alpha in the room, physically and metaphorically, so it was a little unsettling to come across someone so… _matched,_ or maybe the scent appealed to him a little more than it should have, and he didn’t like the implications. Steve swayed a little where he stood, torn between limiting his breaths and breathing deeper, some kind of tension rolling into his limbs that made his hands tighten into fists.

He couldn’t stop the growl from slipping out.

Behind the two of them, Loki’s eyes widened in interest.

Tony gave a growl of his own in reply, his brown eyes intense and locked on Steve’s blues. His tone was full of warning, maybe even challenge, and Steve rose to it, refused to submit. The next thing he knew the distance between them had closed, and the volume of their aggressive tones grew louder.

Natasha knew something like this could happen, almost expected it to. She herself was a Beta, and highly desensitized through her training, but she didn’t expect the same restraint from someone who’d spend decades locked in ice and someone else who had trouble functioning like a regular person even on good days. Still, a fight breaking out wasn’t ideal, especially after the trouble they went through to snag Loki, and she turned in the cockpit, ready to intervene. She wanted them to sort it out on their own, but wasn’t sure at the moment if they would. The tension in the air had risen explosively fast, until even she couldn’t ignore it anymore. “Boys, play nice.”

Steve could feel his lips curling back into a sneer despite her words, and Tony’s was far ahead of him, and it would have all gotten very bad _very_ _fast_ , if there hadn’t been a loud strike of thunder, and a thud on the roof of the aircraft, strong enough to jostle the carriage.

Thor’s arrival redirected their attentions entirely. Duty came before everything, and with their prisoner so quickly being whisked away, Steve and Tony didn’t have much time to continue their little threat display. Tony’s helmet snapped on instantly and Steve’s fingers brushed over the shield on his back as he attached a parachute.

Having the helmet back on made it easier to think, for both of them, and to spring back into action. Neither could forget the exchange on the jet though, the fire that’d infected both of them, and sent them hurdling towards each other like star-crossed meteors.

The next time they spoke, there was plenty of distance between them. Tony sauntered around the main deck of the Heilcarrier, making a show to cover up the placement of the little intelligence probe he’d stuck on the central console, but also to assert himself. He wanted everyone (Steve specifically) to know that he wasn’t one to roll over. That was fine by the majority of the SHIELD agents, who watched with interest, even if his new teammates seemed more annoyed by it than anything. Good. That was part of the plan. Tony spoke big, cracked a joke, and introduced himself to Dr. Banner. He moved out of the room towards the lab he and Bruce had been assigned as quick as possible, but not before locking eyes with Steve, his gaze challenging, accompanied with an upward tilt of his head.

It brought heat to the soldier’s cheeks. Steve’s hands formed into fists in his lap, the leather of the gloves he’d neglected to take off squeaking in protest at the intensity of his grip.

Logic dictated that Steve should stay away from Tony, that he should keep his distance unless absolutely necessary, maybe entirely, unless they were out in the field. But, logic didn’t always win, even in a soldier, and Steve’s instincts led him more than anything, in all aspects of life.

He found himself walking towards the lab. He wasn’t sure exactly where it was, but that didn’t _matter_ , because he could smell Tony’s scent from down the goddamn hall. Steve was loathe to admit it, but he…liked it. It was pleasant, this far away, without the guarded sharpness in it. Tony must have been relaxed with Bruce for it to go this soft.

When the blond got closer though, he could smell that edge returning, and knew that Tony could smell him coming.

Steve meant to give a proper greeting upon his arrival, but all that came out was “Hey! Are you nuts?!” because when he caught sight of the brunet, he was in the middle of poking Bruce Banner with a miniature cattle prod.

Things didn’t go _all_ that well afterwards, but the conversation went better, marginally, than the one on the jet. Bruce shrunk away a little when Steve entered the room; he was an Omega, and a skittish person to begin with, but it was clear that the soldier’s attention was on Tony, so he settled. Tony turned his attention away from Bruce immediately, quirked a brow at Steve that managed to be alluring and infuriating simultaneously. His shoulders were squared, but the aggression from earlier was gone, replaced with wariness. His words were playful, self assured, even when Steve challenged his opinion.

People didn’t argue with him too much, especially not these days. He was always above everyone else, because of their delusions that he was some otherworldly hero instead of a simple soldier who’d done what was necessary, so although Tony’s sharp words left fire bubbling in his veins, it brought him a strange kind of satisfaction, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. He liked that Tony wasn’t intimidated by him, even if it pissed him off. He almost got swept up in it all again, was reeled in by Tony’s challenge, by his scent, but held himself back, cut things off before he could do something he’d regret.

Besides, Tony’s mistrust of SHIELD seemed well founded, and the pit in Steve’s stomach agreed. He needed to do some digging of his own around the Helicarrier.

“Just find the cube.”

Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Steve left the room. His lungs burned a little from it, and an ache settled in his chest that had nothing to do with the weight of his arc reactor. He frowned to himself for a moment, wondering why he felt the way he did, wishing he could go back to the uncomplicated, aggressive hatred he’d felt initially. Things were getting muddy now, in a way he didn’t understand, and Tony _hated_ not understanding.

“ _That’s_ the guy my dad never shut up about?” he offered when he could feel Bruce’s eyes on him. “I’m wondering if they shouldn’t have left him on ice.”

Bruce gave him a look.

“What?” Tony replied, fiddling with the pen in his hands.

“You do know why you’re acting like this, right? Why both of you threaten to tear apart the room every time you’re within five feet of each other?”

“Because he’s a self-righteous prick who’s making it his personal mission to bug the shit out of me?” Tony offered. He put the finishing touches on their tracking algorithm.

Bruce sighed, and input the search parameters. “You’re a carrier, right? I think I read that in a magazine once?”

Tony shrugged a little. “Yeah, and?” He didn’t quite know where Bruce was going with this, but he had a sneaking suspicion, and really hoped it was wrong.

Bruce adjusted his glasses, made a vague sweeping gesture for Tony to fill in the blanks.

Tony squinted at him, and got the message. “Wait, are you suggesting that—“

“You two are compatible? Yes. That’s how it works, right? Two Alphas size each other up, and if they’re biologically compatible, their hormones go on the fritz. You’re both in denial of your attraction, and you’re channeling that confliction into rage, into aggression. You’re uncomfortable with the concept of being matched, with the sudden compulsion to get closer, to start a relationship, and you’re doing everything you can to ignore that possibility.”

The brunet bristled, felt his heart jump. He and _Rogers_? Compatible? He would have laughed at the thought, but it wasn’t funny. It was more terrifying than anything, especially because some part of him, tiny and subdued, found it appealing. The two of them—it could never happen, and he didn’t _want_ it to happen. Or did he?

“That’s ridiculous,” Tony spit out, frowning at the shiny floor. “He’s just not used to having to posture. Everyone’s been kissing his ass all these years and I won’t, and he doesn’t like that. He wants a challenge, and I’m going to win.”

“There’s already a pretty big challenge on our plates. We don’t need you two rolling around the floor and ripping each other’s limbs off.”

“First off, it wouldn’t happen on the floor, it’d happen in a nice, clear space with an audience, and Big Red would knock his tight ass back into 1942,” Tony replied. He tossed his pen in the air, fumbled it a little, but caught it.

Bruce gave him a sidelong glance and turned his gaze back to the screen in front of him. “Let me just say from experience that denial is an ineffectual coping method. You’re much better facing the facts, and finding a way to move forward with them.”

Tony opened his mouth, ready to say something sharp and biting, but closed it again. He glared at the pen in his hands instead.

Maybe Bruce was right. Maybe all of this pent up energy, the overwhelming urge to invade Steve’s space, to _claim_ it as his own, ran much deeper than a simple territorial dispute. Maybe there was a reason he couldn’t stop looking, couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, and why he felt breathless but so awake, so _alive_ , when interacting with him. Maybe there was a reason his childhood fantasies were playing on a loop in his hindbrain, and why the blond’s scent, now absent from the air in the room, left Tony’s head spinning.

Maybe, _maybe_ , they really were compatible, and it was something deep in his core, some invisible string that tied them together, which made it impossible to function without a proper resolution to their introduction. His body clearly had a preferred resolution, and an image of Steve’s lips against his flashed in his brain, but Tony vehemently denied it. There was no way he was going to fall to this. He’d just met the guy, spent half of his life hating him and the other half idolizing him, and there were way more important things at hand right now. Not to mention, Tony’s life was just becoming stable again after a rough handful of years. He didn’t need something like this squirreling it all up again. There was no way he was falling for Steve Rogers.

But hadn’t he already fallen? Wasn’t there, even now, a kind of ache in his chest, a sense of longing that he couldn’t identify until right now? Didn’t some part of him want to never let the blond out of his sight?

He could stay away, if he really wanted to. He could speak up, lay it all out, and then walk away, and, theoretically, never have to deal with any of this again. Compatible mates weren’t _required_ to get together, after all. It wasn’t that uncommon to be extremely compatible with three, four or five other people, and to switch a few times before settling down. Some people never even found someone they were extremely compatible with, and their regular relationships worked out just as well. That was normal. All of it was normal.

But Tony’s life had never been normal, in any capacity, and something told him that if he opened up to Steve, even just a little, he wouldn’t be able to pull himself away.

If Steve offered himself, wanted to pursue something here, Tony knew he would oblige, against his better judgment. He knew that, deep down, and hated it. He hated it because _he_ wanted it too, in a weird way. Twenty years ago he’d be chomping at the bit for a chance to get together with Captain America, in any capacity, but he was an adult now, and knew that relationships, compatibility aside, were fundamentally difficult, and stressful, and somewhat terrifying. He also knew that the fallout from a relationship could be disastrous. He’d had enough of that kind of stress a few months ago, when he and Pepper broke up. He couldn’t imagine him and Steve working past their rocky introduction, and getting a taste of sweetness, just to have it inevitably ripped away again when Steve decided that Tony was too difficult to be with, or Tony decided _Steve_ was too difficult to be with. They were both imposing figures, with plenty of power and presence, and Tony couldn’t see how something like that could ever work out.

But he’d heard Bruce’s theory, and Bruce knew his stuff, if the numerous articles and published essays Tony had read over the years were any indication, and Tony had never been good at reading his own body. It was all kinds of messed up to begin with, after some wild years in his youth and the ordeal of being held hostage, and he had honestly neglected his body more times than he could count, so maybe there _was_ a chance it could all work out. Maybe it was _supposed_ to work out. Maybe it would make them stronger, and get the mission done quicker if they were on the same page. If he were honest with himself, the thought that any relationship they formed could help the mission was _far_ from a priority. It was just an excuse he gave himself, to try and convince himself that it was _okay_ to want, that it was okay to dream.

He didn’t know what to think or do though, and that just raised Tony’s irritation meter by another 15%. He snatched his bag of blueberries back off of the work desk in front of him, and angrily popped one in his mouth.

Not an hour later, all hell broke loose. Any sense of resentment or aggression went out the window in the face of a bigger challenge. Between Tony’s ears rattling from the impact of an explosion, and the sudden burst of adrenaline, he didn’t have time to feel anything but surprise when the soldier’s arms wrapped around him, and hauled him to his feet. He didn’t have time to think it over while he was struggling to keep the Helicarrier in the air, and narrowly avoided getting shredded by the reignited propellers. It wasn’t until his dented suit was back in its travel compartment and he rolled his shoulders, wincing at the ache, that he even remembered it had happened, and something deep and warm settled in his chest, that turned his breathing quick.

Steve’s hands had reached out to steady Tony automatically when the impact hit the lab. He didn’t even have a chance to think about it, or to consider otherwise. It was instinctual. He didn’t even realize he’d done it until he pulled back, and they gave each other a glance and sprung into action. It was a complete 180 from what had occurred moments prior, where the Scepter ramped up everyone’s tempers to an almost comical degree, and left Steve and Tony inches apart, blood boiling and heads swimming, unable to think rationally in the face of their combined scents, and the overwhelming stress the effect of the Scepter had on them, and on everyone in the room.

Steve had put it all out of his mind, focused on the mission, on keeping everyone safe, and didn’t have time to think about it again until after, when Fury summoned him and Tony back to the main deck.

 _“Oh I’m starting to want you to make me,”_ Steve heard in his hindbrain, couldn’t ignore the way Tony had said it, firm, but kind of inviting, like he wasn’t really talking about a fight at all. Steve couldn’t ignore the way the possibility made him felt, despite everything, and let out a harsh exhale when Tony, looking a little tired, walked into the room.

Their eyes met again, but Tony didn’t have any words this time. His scent was softer, kind of exhausted in a sad way, and it was no doubt because of the circumstances. The Helicarrier was saved, yes, but there were plenty of casualties, including one Phil Coulson. Steve didn’t doubt the loss weighed heavily on Tony’s mind, could see it in the change in his demeanor, in his expression as Fury regarded the two of them from across the table, and gave them the run down.

Thor was gone, and so was The Hulk, and Loki had escaped their grasp with no signs to indicate his future plans. A lot of the hardware on the Helicarrier was damaged, and no one knew how to move forward. The only upside to all of this was that Agent Barton had rejoined their side, and from what Steve understood, Romanov was working with him to expel the last traces of brainwashing. Steve was used to less than ideal odds; war was full of them, but he couldn’t help but feel the pressure of failure on his shoulders too.

Tony heaved a sigh, sitting opposite Steve at the meeting table. All of this was becoming too much, too _real_ too quickly. Lives were truly at stake now, it wasn’t an abstract concept anymore, and he wasn’t sure how they could fix everything. What’s more, he could smell the change in Steve’s scent, no longer guarded or challenging against him, but kind of calming, like he was reaching out to comfort Tony. Maybe he was. He didn’t take a look at Steve to confirm that. He just wanted to disappear now, to find a way to end all of this quickly, and to forget the whole thing. He wasn’t meant for this, for any of it, could feel himself getting a little anxious in the face of it.

That anxiety only ramped up higher when Fury mentioned the Avengers Initiative, the one club he hadn’t been invited to, which he’d actually been vehemently locked _out_ of, which had said more than enough hurtful things about him despite all the good he had tried to do over the years.

No. Tony wasn’t going to take it, wasn’t going to be pulled in as a last resort, only good enough for everyone as a final hope. It made him feel like shit, and he had plenty of experience making _himself_ feel like shit, didn’t need any fucking help to do it, and he wasn’t going to take it.

Tony sprung out of his chair, fists clenched and chest tight, and stormed out of the room.

He started walking. It didn’t matter really where he was going, as long as he was alone. The few people he passed in the hallways kept their distance, probably put off by his scent. A distressed Alpha didn’t smell too great. He didn’t care. The events of the last two days kept playing in his head, a confusing, jumbled mess that gave him more questions than he had answers for. He didn’t think it was possible to become more emotionally conflicted, but apparently it was.

Eventually, Tony slipped through a side door, found himself in a spiral stairway with several landings. At the bottom, there seemed to be an excessively large latch which led to the aircraft hangar.

The sound of his footfalls against stiff and cold metal rung in his ears, but unlike the metal of his suit, it was foreign, and did nothing to comfort him. He closed his hands around the railing in front of him, looked down into the dimly lit stairwell. For a brief moment, Tony considered jumping. It was a fleeting thought, one of plenty over the years, and he shook his head, sighed in disappointment. To Tony’s dismay, he could feel his eyes tear up a little. The last thing he wanted to do right now was cry. If he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He had to hold himself together. Somehow, his thoughts drifted to Steve. For a brief moment, he wished the solider were there.

Sometimes if you asked for something, you got it though, regardless of if you really wanted it or not. Tony didn’t have time to regret the fleeting thought, or what it meant. The door behind him swung open, and the sound of boots, heavier than his own shoes, rang out in the stairwell. Tony didn’t have to turn to know who they belonged to. Steve’s scent dominated the room almost immediately. Despite himself, Tony shuddered, and licked his lips.

There was a beat of silence, and Steve’s voice filled the air.

“Was he married?”

 _He._ There was only one ‘he’ the soldier could be referencing, and Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about him, or anything right now, but his mouth opened without permission, like it was easy to answer Steve. “No,” he started. “There was a, uh, cellist, I think.”

Steve adjusted his position, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He could feel the misery permeating the air, tainting the brunet’s otherwise sweet smell. He didn’t like it one bit. Steve swallowed hard, overcome with a desire to reach out, to comfort Tony. It surprised him, but then again, it didn’t.

Tony’s middle name may have been denial, but Steve was no stranger to coming to terms with unpleasant truths, and it was clear to him, over the course of the last few hours, that there was some kind of connection between the two of them, some instinct that tugged them together, whether they liked it or not. Initially, it seemed insane to him, and he fought it, sure he could overcome the compulsion, combat it with aggression. But now, he seemed to realize that aggression wasn’t an option, that there was no way to fight his way out of this situation, and that words would have to settle it for him.

Steve didn’t know how to start that conversation though, so he focused on the one at hand.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, and he really was. Tony seemed truly shaken by Coulson’s death, and by everything that had happened today. “He seemed like a good man.”

Tony wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Steve was trying to relate to him, trying to settle him. He also knew, could smell it in the air, sense it by his presence, that there was something else on Steve’s mind, something that the scientist had been determined to ignore, to deny, and it made his heart leap in his throat.

He could feel himself getting irritated again, at _everything_ , especially the way he wanted to give in to it, to take this whole thing and run with it.

Steve’s words made him scoff though. This whole situation was unfair, for everyone, but especially for Phil Coulson, an average human who seemed kind and caring and devoted to his job, who’d just given his life for the rest of them. Tony didn’t know Coulson that well, but knew he was optimistic, lighthearted, and believed in a world better than the one they had. Tony wasn’t a fool like that. “He was an idiot,” Tony found himself growling. He couldn’t find better words at the moment.

Steve blinked in disbelief at the sudden change in tone, felt his shoulders tighten a little. “Why?” he snapped back. “For believing?”

Tony shook his head. “For taking on Loki alone!” he replied, as if it were obvious. He finally turned to look at Steve, met his eyes for just a moment, and looked away again. The way the blond looked at him made his cheeks hot.

Steve frowned in reply, stood straight. “He was doing his job,” he said. Did Tony really think that way? Did he really not understand why Coulson had done what he did? Coulson’s sacrifice demanded the utmost respect, Steve thought, and Tony wasn’t giving it to him now. He didn’t care too much about that though, was more interested in the way his blood was singing, and the hundreds of ideas that planted themselves in his head the second those brown eyes looked back into his.

The room seemed to get hotter again, and Steve found himself taking steps towards Tony.

Opposite him, Tony started pacing, fists clenched. It was a little hard to think, with everything he was feeling all mixed up around, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking out loud. “He was out of his depth! He should have waited, he should have—“

“Sometimes there isn’t a way out, Tony,” Steve replied firmly. He didn’t think the double meaning was lost on the brunet.

Suddenly, it occurred to him that it was the first time he’d called the scientist by his first name.

The distance between them was closing, and it made his heart beat anxiously. Steve tried to stay calm, tried to figure out how to breach the subject.

Tony rolled his eyes, frown deepening as Steve approached. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like any of this. He didn’t like it because he _wanted_ it, because it felt nice to have Steve’s attention on him the way it was, to see the distance between them closing. It felt _nice_ and Tony wasn’t ready to accept that. “Right, I’ve heard that before,” he said.

 _‘Fuck this,’_ he thought, trying to hammer down the ache in his chest, the sudden yearning.

Tony swallowed hard. He tried turning around, moving towards the door. He had repairs to work on anyway, needed to give the suit as much as a tune up as possible until he could get back to Stark Tower. He wanted to be anywhere else, to ignore everything that was going on and to focus on something directly in his own control. Tinkering always made him feel better, grounded him when he felt like he was drifting, and he certainly felt like that now. His emotions were welling up far too fast, and it was a little hard to breathe, and he could feel the resolution of all of this sneaking up awfully quickly. Tony wasn’t prepared to meet it.

Steve couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, fingers brushing against the scientist’s sleeve. He felt his heart rate spike; he needed to keep Tony here, to figure this all out, to make him understand and to be understood in return. The pain clear in his scent unsettled the soldier, made his own heart ache. They were alone, for the first time, and it was becoming abundantly clear that his heart wanted to sort this mess out. Would Tony let him? Could he carry on without addressing this? Steve didn’t think he could.

“Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?” he asked, gently locking his fingers around Tony’s arm. He’d hoped it would placate him.

Tony rounded on him so fast that Steve was almost taken off guard. The brunet’s teeth snapped at him, his shoulders raised, and he growled out, “We are _not_ soldiers!”

Steve snatched his hand back, and bit down on his tongue. Normally he would meet that aggression, would let his temper rise and his voice go deeper, a growl rip through his throat, but he held himself back this time. He saw the hurt in Tony’s eyes, mixed with fear, and maybe a little longing, and it was enough to keep him still.

His hand lingered in the air, and Tony looked down at it, and then back up at Steve, and the tension in his shoulders eased off a fraction.

Tony’s eyes widened a little at what he’d done, and what he’d said, and then he inhaled softly, let out a shaky breath. He felt dizzy, the air too thick. Every inhale just smelled like Steve, and it made a chill run down his spine instead of set him on edge like a few hours ago. God, he wanted to give in to it. He wanted to feel Steve’s arms around him, wanted the comfort he was offering now, but couldn’t give that to himself. It wasn’t right. They barely knew each other. They hated each other.

Didn’t they?

“I…I…” Tony was unsure of how to continue.

“I know,” Steve replied. He swallowed hard, the silence deafening. Here, so close, Tony’s scent made his mouth water. His eyes were big and brown, and the focus in them was disappearing a little, replaced with intrigue, with want. Steve’s eyes drifted to his lips, slightly parted, and he was overcome with the urge to kiss him.

The blond took another breath. His raised fingers twitched, eager to make contact. He couldn’t keep dancing around it all anymore. He needed to just say it, to lay it all out. He knew Tony knew, and knew that they both felt the same way. The only thing getting in their way was their pride, and in the short period of time they’d known each other, Steve knew they both had plenty of it. “Tony, I…”

The brunet knew exactly where this was going. Of course he did.

“No,” he said curtly, and shook his head. He swayed a little as he did it, his eyes having trouble focusing. Despite himself, he could feel heat gathering in his core, felt a familiar ache bubbling up in him. He couldn’t help but notice the red gathering on Steve’s cheeks, the way his blue eyes had deepened a little, and were transfixed on him, and he knew Bruce had been right about them, whether he liked it or not.

Compatible. So, that settled that.

“Why not?” Steve asked, taking another step forward. His brows were tugged down, but with urgency instead of anger. He needed to know why Tony was fighting it so hard, when he’d already made peace with it. “Why can’t we?”

“Because,” the brunet replied with a scoff. “We don’t know each other. We _don’t like_ each other. You—You’re you, and I’m me, and you’d get sick of me in a heartbeat, and it’d just cause more problems than it’s worth, and I don’t—I don’t need more—“ Tony choked on his words. His throat locked tight for a second, and he could feel prickling behind his eyelids. He shook his head again.

“I don’t hate you,” Steve replied, before Tony could say any more. “I don’t…I don’t hate you. I don’t _want_ to hate you. This is all out of left field for me too, but I… I wanna give it a chance,” he explained. “Why can’t you?”

 _‘Why can’t I?’_ Tony’s hindbrain asked, scrambling for a counter argument.

“I…I just….”

He looked into Steve’s eyes, found himself drowning in their blue. It’d be so easy, wouldn’t it? It’d be so easy to just let it happen, to put aside his fears or his reservations and just give it a try. That’s all Steve was asking for, nothing more, nothing less. There was no kind of obligation, and maybe Tony’s heart would only shatter a _little_ if it all collapsed spectacularly, instead of a lot. Maybe it would be okay, but maybe it wouldn’t, and if it wouldn’t be okay, he wasn’t sure he could deal with it. He didn’t think he could handle the fear, was afraid of taking the leap.

“Trust me,” he said, trying to deter the blond once and for all. “You don’t want me. You don’t want this.”

“I don’t know if I want it,” Steve countered. “I want the chance to find out if I do.”

Tony was silent, his expression doubtful. His gaze was fixed on the floor.

Steve’s fingers hesitated, and he clenched a fist in mid-air, but then he got the courage to keep moving, to place a hand on Tony’s shoulder softly. “Tell me you don’t want it, though,” he said, looking down at the brunet. “Tell me you really hate me and that you don’t want any part of this, that you don’t even want to give it a chance. You tell me that, seriously, and I’ll never bring it up again, but I’d really like to get to know you. I’d really like to try.”

Tony’s skin grew warm under Steve’s touch, and despite himself, his heart fluttered. Looking into Steve’s eyes just made it worse. He couldn’t say any of that. He couldn’t.

“I don’t wanna fuck it up,” he admitted instead. “I’m not good at relationships. It’s not worth it, I promise you.”

“Let me decide if it’s worth it,” Steve replied. “Just give me the chance.”

Tony frowned a little, let his eyes drift to the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t—it’s too much, all of this. I’m fucking overwhelmed. It’s insane! It’s all so _personal_ and—“ he stopped abruptly.

“We’ll take it slow, and if you decide—“

“Loki made it personal,” Tony interrupted, eyes focusing on Steve once more.

“That’s not the point right now. We’re talking about—“

“No,” the scientist said, holding up a hand. “That _is_ the point. That’s Loki’s point! He hit us all right where we live—why?”

Steve could see the focus in his eyes, the sharp excitement, and knew the brunet was coming to some kind of important conclusion. Maybe their conversation could be tabled for later. There _was_ a mission at hand, after all. Things larger than their non-existent relationship were at stake.

The blond stood straighter, dropped his hand from Tony’s shoulder, and considered the question. “To tear us apart,” he replied after a mere second.

Tony tilted his head, eyes flitting to the ceiling in thought. “Yeah… ‘Divide and Conquer’ is great, but…He knows he has to take us out to win, right?” He held up a finger, gestured vaguely. “ _That_ ’ _s_ what he wants. He wants to beat us, he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an _audience_.”

There was a hint of a smile on Tony’s face, like a hunter who’d just caught sight of his prey. He moved towards the door again, but this time, he wasn’t running away from something, he was running towards an objective. He could deal with objectives. He liked objectives. Objectives were clear, logical, and relied on trial and error, and sometimes intuition, but normally had rhyme and reason instead of complete guesswork and emotional turbulence. Focusing on the mission was the easiest thing to do now. He told himself he could sort out the emotional mess later(though he wasn’t sure he could).

Steve fell into step immediately, followed the brunet across the room. The soldier could almost feel his enthusiasm, could see the road Tony was leading him down pretty easily. It didn’t take much to catch up. “Right. I caught his act in Stuttgart,” he supplied. He still wanted to talk about them, and to make a decision, but he could see that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. They were agreeing now at least, some sense of harmony taking over, easily, _naturally_ , and that was good enough for Steve right now.

“Yeah,” Tony replied. He was gesturing widely now, emphasizing his point. Not that Steve needed any emphasis; he understood perfectly, and that let a little warmth seep into his chest, his scent turning just a hint sweeter.

It pleased Tony, almost brought a smile to his lips despite it all, but he pushed it away. He was in the middle of a revelation, and all of his attention was focused on that, like it always was when he was inches away from solving a problem. “That’s—that’s just previews though. This is opening night, and Loki—he’s a full tilt diva, right? He wants flowers, he wants parades. He—he wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered on the—“

Steve quirked a brow at him, and knew they’d both come to the same conclusion.

Tony bristled.

“Son of a bitch.”

Tony didn’t have much time to think about the concept of ‘them,’ after that. Between flying to New York, being threatened and thrown from his own building, fighting countless aliens, trying to contain the damage, and now, at what he hoped was the end of it, carrying a nuke through a portal into space, the brunet was on a rollercoaster of emotion and adrenaline much worse than any he’d ever been on.

The abrupt 90 degree turn made him nauseous, and he got a little lightheaded as JARVIS pulled on the auxiliary power to boost the speed of the suit on its upwards climb. His heart felt caught in his throat, and Tony was so tense he could hardly breathe. He had to get this right. If there was one thing in his life he needed to get right, it was this. So many were counting on him, literally millions, and even the slightest mistake could doom them all.

Tony’s grip on the nuke was sure, tight, even through the suit, but even as he rose, he could feel himself tremble.

“That’s a one way trip,” Steve had said, voice kind of soft, plenty serious. Tony thought he could hear the regret in it, the longing.

“Don’t get torn up about it,” Tony replied simply. He meant that. He didn’t want Steve to miss him, to feel anything, really. It was bad enough _he_ was feeling something now, feeling _everything_. He couldn’t bear the thought of Steve, down on the ground, sparing him harrowing thoughts.

The seconds ticked by, and a thousand thoughts ran through Tony’s head: a thousand missed chances, a thousand opportunities and decisions that he didn’t have the option of encountering anymore, a thousand regrets. He was thinking of one in particular now, and hit made his throat tight with emotion.

He didn’t get to give Steve a real answer, didn’t get to fully explain himself and to decide. Now, with seconds to go, Tony wished he could. He wanted to try it, wanted to try it all. He wondered what it’d be like if they got to know each other, if anything could actually come of it. He wondered if it could make him happy, if he could make Steve happy. He wondered if they could stay together for a long time, forever potentially, wondered about all the little trials and tribulations they would go through, but also all the good times, all the dreams that could come to fruition. Now, it seemed he wouldn’t get the chance to find out.

Life was funny like that; you didn’t realize what you could’ve had until you lost it.

The wide expanse of blue filling his HUD was beautiful, but terrifying. On the right hand corner of his screen, he could see the altitude meter climbing, higher than his test flight all those years ago, above Malibu, and higher than any flight since. It filled him with a kind of dreadful excitement, especially when the blue turned to black, in one instant, and everything changed.

Space was quiet. The suit did a good enough job at keeping out sound, had parameters to filter through what was important and to determine what wasn’t, but the suit always had a low hum about it, a combination of the power of the arc reactor and the power of the thrusters, not unlike a car motor. Sometimes the wind carried through it too, if he was flying fast enough. Now, he couldn’t hear the wind. He couldn’t hear the explosions, the chaos of the city below him. He couldn’t hear anything but his own harsh breathing. It was exhilarating; the realm before him was wide and unfathomable, an endless stretch of deep darkness dotted with light.

He’d never imagined it would feel so cold though.

His momentum through the portal carried him upwards, even as the weightlessness kicked in, and his stomach flipped from the change in force. He could hear the moment JARVIS disconnected, nothing more than a little fuzz and click to indicate Tony’s complete isolation. But he wasn’t isolated. Up ahead, he could see it: He could see the massive alien ship, the transporter which had brought countless Chitauri, invaders from another world into his own. It was the biggest ship he’d ever seen, and the sheer numbers it represented chilled him to the bone.

He lost his breath. That may have been from the actual lack of oxygen though, and not just from the fear.

The thrusters went next. He could feel them give a little jump, and shut off.

Tony held tight to the weapon in his hands, an incomprehensible threat which had suddenly turned into their last hope. He needed to get it there, to make sure that this invasion would stop once and for all. He _needed_ to destroy that ship.

Somewhere along the way, it wasn’t up to him anymore though. His vision was going fuzzy, dark around the edges, and all of the air in his suit seemed to disappear at once. He was no stranger to suffocating, had had water in his lungs or hands locked around his throat, but suffocating _here_ , in the safety of his suit, of his armor? It left him with a sense of helplessness so strong that he didn’t know he could survive it. He probably wouldn’t. His arms felt too heavy, and a wave of exhaustion ran through him.

The HUD went dark, and suddenly, Tony was falling. The nuke kept climbing though, a sliver of white against a dark background, cutting through the night like an arrow.

The explosion was soundless. Tony caught the briefest glimpse of it before the black took him. It was bright, too bright, and took up the entire expanse before him, and only seemed to grow. There was a split second where it all flashed blue, until the fire spread a little, and familiar red filled the air.

The blue reminded Tony of Steve’s eyes.

Steve thought his heart was going to stop, or shatter, or both. Tony disappeared through the portal all too quickly, here one second, gone the next, before Steve could even think of anything else to say.

He hadn’t felt such fear since going down in the Atlantic. It left him paralyzed, down on the ground, his muscles tense and breath short. The entire world felt like one big breath, held too long in the lungs, which burned. Maybe fear wasn’t his to feel. After all, they barely knew each other. Even if they were compatible, if they could have had something, they’d barely begun to see eye to eye, and he never even got a proper answer out of Tony, about the two of them, and that was ironically familiar. It seemed everyone in his life slipped from his grasp in the end: his mother, Bucky, Peggy, and now Tony Stark, who could have been the key to a productive, happy future. The opposite could have also been true of course. Tony could’ve been someone who made his life harder, who infuriated him and made every moment a new challenge, but Steve didn’t know. He _couldn_ ’t know, because the opportunity had just disappeared through a hole in space, and most likely wouldn’t be returning. He was alone again, despite the people around him. The blond’s mouth ran dry at the thought.

He waited, and waited, and waited.

The Chitauri around them collapsed, and the explosions and screams died down, replaced by quiet grief, and the world kept on turning, but Tony didn’t return. Steve wasn’t sure he ever would. Squinting up at the portal, he could see the growing inferno, the result of a nuclear impact, and he could see that it wouldn’t be contained. That damage could bleed over into the city, and that couldn’t be allowed, no matter what. Steve’s heart was bleeding, more than he thought it could, more than he expected to. Tony wasn’t his, maybe never would be, but he couldn’t imagine moving forward from this. Now that he’d known him, even for a short time, he couldn’t imagine braving this modern world without Tony Stark at his side.

The moments crawled by, and Steve knew he couldn’t wait anymore. He had to make a choice, for the good of all. The words almost caught in his throat.

“Close it,” he said reluctantly. “Close the portal,” and Natasha did.

The next few moments were a blur.

The blond felt like he couldn’t breathe, rushing over to kneel against Tony’s body where the Hulk had not-so-gently deposited him after miraculously saving him. Steve crossed the distance in mere seconds, let his feet carry him over debris with urgency, to bring him to Tony’s side. Steve’s heart was jumping out of his throat, hoping for the best but expecting the worst, and he and the others waited for an answer.

Iron Man was scratched to hell, covered in dried Chitauri blood, riddled with bullet holes and debris and scratches, but still intact. They weren’t sure if the same could be said for the man inside.

Thor ripped off the armor’s mask, which skid across the pavement with a _clang_ , and Steve caught a glimpse of Tony’s face, eyes closed. It was more peaceful than he’d physically seen it. There was a gash on his brow, red and deep, but otherwise, his beautiful face was clear of injuries. That didn’t Settle Steve though. He swallowed hard, put a hand over the brunet’s chestplate, over his heart. Tony smelled wrong, too distressed, too distant, and Steve feared the worst. Had they lost another today? Had Tony just given his life, just as readily as Phil Coulson had a few hours ago?

Steve remembered his words on the Helicarrier, the horrible things he’d said to Tony, because of the Scepter, because of his own unresolved emotions. He remembered their conversation before the battle, how Tony insisted he wasn’t good for Steve, how they couldn’t work out. Maybe they couldn’t. So why did Steve feel so lost? Why did he feel like his entire life had just come crashing down? He was filled with guilt, and remorse, so suddenly that it weighed physically on his shoulders. He sat back in defeat.

The Hulk’s sudden roar was enough to make even Steve shudder. It bounced around the city, amplified more than he thought was possible. It was clear that where Bruce was all calm, if not timid Omega, the Hulk was every bit as powerful, as intimidating of an Alpha. Steve felt lucky that the Hulk was on their side.

He felt a million times luckier when Tony cried out, his body jerking in surprise, and those big brown eyes took everything in.

The brunet took a few heaving, desperate breaths, his gaze unfocused, until it settled on Steve. “What happened?” he asked. His eyes widened, and he looked around again at all of them. “Please tell me nobody kissed me.”

The relief rolled off of Steve in waves, and he grinned. “Nobody did,” he replied, shaking his head. “But I’d fucking like to.”

Tony looked at him a moment, and then let out a laugh. It was short, almost quiet, but the warmth in his gaze made Steve feel like absolutely everything was alright in that moment. The smell of vanilla and whiskey filled his nostrils, stronger than ever, more open than ever. His eyes widened a little as he stared down at the brunet. Was he…?

Tony took a deep breath, the intent quite candid, and he smiled softly, and Steve knew they were on the same page. There was no hesitation on Tony’s part anymore. He knew a second chance when he saw one, and it was, admittedly, so much easier to accept it, to let himself have it, when it was in his grasp like this. Steve’s face, covered in dirt and a scratch or two, his hair disheveled, seemed like looking into the face of God now, and Tony knew that he wanted to see it like that, smiling down at him, every day if he could.

The blond’s scent washed over him, loving, relieved, comforting, like a gentle breeze that swept him up, let him ignore the pain his body was in that he was rapidly becoming aware of, and Tony couldn’t bring himself to fight it anymore. The risks be damned. He’d survived, they’d _won_ , and this specific risk suddenly seemed less scary. It suddenly seemed _right._

“You know what, Cap? I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was probably the most play-by-play (finished) fic I've ever written, excluding the one for IT Chapter 2. It was interesting to fit everything into a new context, but I def prefer writing missing scenes instead. That being said it was interesting to take on the very beginning of their relationship. I've never written about that before.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment with your thoughts, and what you're excited to get out of this new series!


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